Inbetween
by Blackbird Snow
Summary: G1, S3. Of course, only irony would lock him in the same room, in this position, with the gentle Autobot. Primus had a strange sense of humor. Swindle x First Aid. Set sometime after the ep 'The Ultimate Weapon.'
1. Chapter 1

Waking up in the enemy medbay was never a pleasant exeperience. For one reason, it meant you were deep in enemy territory, and for another…well it was never a good thing to wake up in a medbay, enemy or not. Swindle adjusted his optics to the new light. The usual Autobot-orange walls told him quite clearly where he lay. It was dimmer in here than out on the battlefield, but after emerging from a pool dark unconsciousness, even the small soft light beams stabbed his optical sensors like a knife.

He sensed movement somewhere near his head and glanced over as a blurry red and white figure came into his line of vision. Once he managed to focus on him, Swindle recognized the Autobot: it was their medic, First Aid, the one he had encountered before not all that long ago. The pacifist, he remembered.

Of course, only irony would lock him in the same room, in this position, with the gentle Autobot. Primus had a strange sense of humor.

The medic was doing something to his right leg, which hurt like the Pit. All of him hurt, but his leg felt like it was on fire. It must have been crushed in the falling debris from that explosion. He didn't remember much of what happened after hearing the bang, but it was enough to knock him into stasis lock. His arm cannon was missing. No doubt he would have been disarmed, but then again hopefully his favorite weapon hadn't been another victim of the battle.

First Aid didn't seem to notice that he was awake. The medic was too focused on his leg. Swindle peered at him as best he could without moving his head. First Aid had definitely been on the battlefield as well. His body was dented and scratched, with scorch marks appearing here and there. He had lost his face mask, revealing his blue optics and young features.

"First Aid!" Another Protectobot appeared, Blades, if Swindle remembered correctly. He came and stood next to the medic. "You need to get yourself patched up. Worry about him later!"

First Aid seemed to ignore him, as he only continued working on Swindle's leg. "I'm not going anywhere until he stops bleeding energon from this main fuel line."

"He's the enemy First Aid! You should have left him buried under those rocks."

"Please, Blades," First Aid responded with a hint of a small growl in his voice, "I need to concentrate."

The copter glared at the Decepticon in contempt before turning to leave First Aid to his work. "It's not as if he'd do the same for you..."

Swindle listened to the whole exchange in silence, staring blankly at the ceiling. He felt the medic's hands stop their movement over his leg as First Aid let out a sigh. "There...," he said quietly to himself.

It was then Swindle decided the Protectobot wasn't being bothered enough. "He's probably right you know," the Combaticon said weakly. His vocalizer was still strained from the fight. He saw First Aid's head jerk slightly out of the corner of his optic.

"You've come out of stasis," the medic said. "That's a good sign." The last part was said mostly to himself as he made his way over to a monitoring station near Swindle's head. He gazed over the readouts. "At least you're not leaking energon anymore."

"What am I doing here, First Aid?"

The Protectobot turned his blue optics on Swindle, looking tired and defeated. "I was searching for a comrade underneath all that rubble. I was able to locate him, but I found you as well."

"So why aren't you helping him?"

"I already did. His wasn't nearly as damaged as you." First Aid frowned. "His injuries weren't life threatening."

"Is that why you brought me here? So you could save me, the enemy?"

First Aid turned to the screen again. At first, Swindle thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he heard a reply just above a whisper.

"I couldn't just leave you there. Not while you were still alive."

Swindle gazed at him. "My people would have come for me, you know."

First Aid looked at him grimly. "But by then it would have been too late."

"That bad, huh?" Swindle grinned, trying to lighten the depressing mood. First Aid didn't respond. Instead he seemed to be staring at nothing, his optics locked onto some invisible spot on the floor. Swindle frowned. Without his face mask, First Aid couldn't hide his emotions so easily. Of course Swindle could read him just fine if he had it on (he did have four brothers who constantly wore their own masks), but it was First Aid's optics that intrigued him.

Their color seemed to be bright and dull at the same time. Full of life, but remarkably sad. Swindle had dealt with plenty of sad, gloomy people looking to satisfy themselves with the material things that he could provide them, but this one raised the unhappy meter just a bit higher. The medic's profit came from helping those around him, and what did he get in return for it? Fix someone up so they can go shoot at somebody else again and keep the war going. Swindle almost felt bad for taunting him on their first meeting. Almost.

Swindle raised his arm slowly, painfully. There was an unpleasant gritty feeling in the space between his nose and an optic. He removed the shield glasses covering his optics, scratching at the dirt that had gathered underneath. First Aid was watching him closely.

"Be careful," the medic advised. "Don't move around too much or-"

First Aid paused mid-sentence, and Swindle glanced at him curiously. "What?" Swindle asked.

First Aid was studying Swindle's face with interest. "Your optics are purple," he said softly. "That's a rare color."

"Yeah," Swindle replied off-hand. "Kinda runs in my family. Blast Off's got 'em too."

"They're nice," First Aid commented, and then he smiled at him.

Swindle could have sworn he felt something jerk deep within his chest right then. He tried to hide the flinch that went across his face but unfortunately for him, First Aid was trained to notice such things.

"Are you alright?"

Swindle gazed away at the opposite wall, turning his head to hide the grimace on his features. "I'm fine," he muttered. It took every bit of willpower and strength he had left to keep his body from twitching when First Aid reached out to touch him on the shoulder.

"Get some rest then," the medic said gently. "You're safe here. No one will harm you on my watch."

Swindle heard him turn to leave. Then, the word slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Thanks."

First Aid stopped at the door, glancing back at the Combaticon. Swindle sensed the Autobot staring at him, and he turned his head to meet First Aid's optics with his own. First Aid was smiling again. Though this time, it was much fuller, and the Protectobot looked genuinely happy. Swindle held his gaze, and just for a few seconds did First Aid's optics glow with a pure crystalline blue that held not a trace of sorrow or remorse of any kind.

"Please," he said with that cheerful shine still somewhat in his eyes, "Don't try to move. Your repair systems are still trying to fix everything. I'll return shortly."

He left. Swindle watched him go, disappearing out the door. Out of instinct and even just to spite the Autobot, Swindle tried sitting up. _Bad idea!_ Every circuit within him screamed in protest when he attempted to move. His leg felt like it was on fire. Swindle fell back on the berth, his internal alarms threatening him with stasis lock and silently cursing whoever invented things that could explode. At least he knew he wasn't going anywhere for awhile. _That most likely explains why I'm not strapped down. They know I can't move._

With nothing else to do, Swindle glared angrily at the orange ceiling. _Slag._

* * *

I've gotten myself addicted to this pairing. 8D

More to come!


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all for the feedback! I'm glad others found this pairing interesting! :)

Onto the next part!

Remember, R&R please!

* * *

Swindle awoke with a startled gasp. He had let himself slip into recharge in an effort to gain some of his strength back, but the dark dreams that sprouted from his mind had not let him rest peacefully. He could feel the nightmares' effects lingering on his clouded CPU, trying to set him into a panic. He forgot where he was and what had happened the day before, the unfamiliar blazing orange walls causing him great alarm. He lifted his head up, finding himself sore all over. His optics wide in shock as they rested on his mangled right leg. As his foggy mind struggled to recover his lost memory, something embedded deep within his subconscious clicked to life. His natural fight or flee instinct poured hidden strength throughout his battered body, giving him enough stamina to block out some the pain and enable him to sit up.

The familiar weight of his weapon was gone. He was alone in this room, and he could hear no one approaching. The door wasn't too far away. If he could just _get out. _

Swindle slowly stood, putting all of his weight on his good leg, his hands holding on to the berth for support. Something in the back of his mind told him to stop, but he ignored it in his panicky state. He tried making his way to the door, the patchwork on his leg reopening with only just a few steps. He could feel the warm life-giving liquid dripping wastefully onto the floor.

Swindle faltered in his steps, a voice in his head pleading to him to stop. He almost listened to what it said and would have let himself sink to the ground had his head not snapped to attention when he heard someone nearing the door. The strange hidden strength came back to him again as a figure appeared in the doorway. The blue visor across the new mech's face told him only one thing: _Autobot._

First Aid was both shocked and worried that the wounded Combaticon was standing on his own power. For a moment, he locked onto Swindle's bare optics, his protective glasses were still off, and within that short time First Aid saw only the light of an animalistic fear.

That was never a good thing.

"Swindle!" First Aid yelled as he half dodged, half attempted to catch as the Combaticon lunged at him fiercely. Swindle was still too weak from energon loss, and he lost his balance as he tried to tear at the medic's throat. First Aid caught him before he could hit the floor, lowering slowly to his knees and gently turning the injured mech over in his arms. Swindle pushed against him with one arm several times in vain, still trying to fight his way out. "Swindle, stop."

He soon settled against the Protectobot in defeat, his CPU beginning to clear up after hearing First Aid's soft voice saying his name. With the fog lifting, the strength disappeared and the pain came rushing back to him almost tenfold. Swindle let out a noise that started as a strangled grunt and ended as a soft whimper. He turned his head into First Aid's midsection, his optics painfully shut as if trying to will away his discomfort. Primus, everything _hurt_.

First Aid reached into his subspace and pulled out the pain tranquilizer that he had been bringing to the Decepticon. He carefully injected it into the softer metal in Swindle's neck, almost immediately feeling the other go lax when he removed the needle.

When he was sure Swindle was under the effects of the drug, First Aid radioed to whoever was nearest, Hot Spot in this case, to come to his location.

"Hot Spot, come quickly. I need you to help me with something."

"First Aid, are you alright?" he heard his team leader's voice come over his commlink.

"I'm fine. Just come as quickly as you can." First Aid cut the line, looking down at Swindle. The injured mech no longer looked as pained. Rather he seemed to be in a deep recharge, his vents gently breathing out the heated air that had been caught inside, a calm expression on his face. First Aid glanced at Swindle's leg. He wasn't bleeding as much as when he first brought him in, but the new open wounds would have to be fixed right away. The Protectobot sighed. _What were you trying to do, Swindle?_

"Onslaught…"

The murmur was quiet, but First Aid thought it sounded pained and desperate, like a sparkling calling for its parent. For a moment, he thought Swindle would reawaken but it seemed the Combaticon was only dreaming about his brother. First Aid instinctively tightened his grip around him, as if to reassure him that everything would be alright. Perhaps that was what Swindle had been trying to achieve, to go back to his brothers?

When First Aid saw him, he seemed scared about something. He understood that some soldiers would suffer with nightmares and traumatic memories after battling and become stressful and delirious. He only hoped that this had been a one-time event with the Decepticon.

Hot Spot soon arrived, much to First Aid's relief. The Protectobot leader studied First Aid curiously, who seemed to be guarding Swindle from some invisible force.

"Hot Spot, can you help me place him back on the berth?"

"Sure," the fire truck said. "But what happened here?"

"I think he tried to escape from here."

Hot Spot frowned at the medic. "Why? He knows he can't walk or transform."

"I don't know," First Aid replied solemnly. "Grab his head and torso, and I'll get his legs."

The two of them were able to get Swindle back on his berth quickly, allowing for First Aid to begin a second round of repair work. Hot Spot watched him closely, a little wary about leaving him alone with his patient this time. "You don't think he'll try it again, do you?"

"Hopefully not," the medic said, not stopping in his work. "But I'll have to watch him more closely from now on."

"You don't think we should secure him down?"

"I don't want this place to be a prison, Hot Spot," First Aid responded quietly. "It's alright, I'll be fine with him now if you need to go."

"Are you sure?"

First Aid smiled at the truck. "He'll be out for some time. I'll be fine, really. Thank you for your help."

Hot Spot glanced at Swindle's prone form one last time. Convincing himself that First Aid knew what he was doing, he left the medbay.

First Aid finished what repairs he could on Swindle's leg. It would take more time and resources to completely fix, it nearly had to be fully rebuilt, but First Aid did what needed to get done for now. He decided to remain at Swindle's side for a while, should he awake in a panic again.

First Aid pulled a chair up next to the berth, sitting near Swindle's head. He watched him in his sleep, which at first appeared to be peaceful enough. Though after a while, he noticed Swindle's brow crease and an unpleasant frown crossed his dark features. First Aid reached out and ran the back of his fingers down Swindle's face smoothly. A Transformer's face plates were sensitive to touch, and the particular motion First Aid used was meant to comfort.

The medic repeated the actions over, and after several strokes, Swindle seemed to relax again. First Aid pulled his hand away, shutting his own optics in thought. He nearly jumped out of his chair when he heard Swindle's voice.

"Don't stop…"

First Aid peered at him a bit closer. He hadn't realized he was awake. "Swindle?"

Swindle cracked his optics open, their purple light slowly glowing brighter and fuller with each passing second. "That feels nice," he said slowly, still feeling the tranquilizer's medicine coursing through him.

First Aid leaned over him, studying him closely. "Are you alright? What made you try to walk?"

Swindle half expected the medic to be scolding him, but there was more concern than anger in First Aid's voice. Swindle wondered if that voice could ever be angry. "I don't know. All I remember is dreaming a nightmare, and then trying to run away…"

"Run away from what?"

This Swindle wasn't exactly sure about either, but he had somewhat of an idea. He didn't really want to mention it to the Autobot though. "I just had to get out."

Luckily, the medic decided not to question him further and sat back in his chair. Swindle glanced over at him. First Aid had recovered his face mask, hiding his icy blue optics behind his visor once more. Swindle was surprised to find that he missed being able to see them.

Swindle turned to the ceiling, staring, trying to sort through the dreams and fears that made him hurt himself more. He felt First Aid touch him on the shoulder again but this time he didn't flinch. He heard that gentle voice that had saved him from getting himself killed. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

Swindle looked at him, considering his offer. What could it hurt? He could use the company for a while. "Will you take your mask off?"


	3. Chapter 3

Luckily, First Aid had thought to leave him some reading material for when he woke up, otherwise Swindle would've had nothing to do but stare at the wall. He didn't see the Autobot at all since he awakened. No one even stopped by and poked their head in the door to see if he was still alive or even there. It was horribly quiet. The only sounds were his own vents and the humming of the life monitor next to his berth.

Swindle occupied himself by reading over one of the data pads the medic had left. Though, it only made him remember that Autobot books were kinda boring and his mind soon wandered away from the words to elsewhere. He looked to his right leg. It didn't hurt as much, only a little bit sore today. From the looks of it, First Aid was even able to replace some of the missing armor. There were a couple of drab gray plates covering his leg's internals. Well that was nice of the medic, now if only he could have him paint the plating the same golden yellow as the rest of his leg.

Experimentally, Swindle willed his leg to move. He only got a nervous twitch and a sharp sting out of it. Hopefully by tomorrow he would be able to bend it. Then he could focus on escaping from this pit slagging medbay.

For now, he was just content to relax. It was so pitifully quiet. He briefly wondered if something had happened during his sleep. Maybe everyone was wiped out in a Decepticon raid and he was now stuck down here because no one knew where he was or if he was even alive. He smirked to himself. Such morbid thoughts he was suddenly having. The lack of sound was getting to him. It even sounded like the monitor's humming had stopped.

But of course, fate had not decided to let him rest in peace because just as he was getting use to the silence, there was a loud bang that almost made him jump out of the berth and the door to his room was nearly torn down by a frantic First Aid.

"Swindle!"

First Aid ran to his bedside, looking over him intensely as if he was mere seconds from passing on and meeting Primus face to face. Swindle stared at him blankly. The medic's expression was beginning to worry him. He wasn't dying or something, was he? He felt fine. All he did was try to move his leg…

"F-First Aid?"

First Aid's optics stopped roaming over the Combaticon and widened in a sudden realization, though Swindle had no idea of what. Before he could inquire, First Aid turned away from him and crouched down next to the life monitor.

"Oh no," First Aid whispered sadly. He turned back to Swindle. The Combaticon sat himself up as much as he could, staring at the medic, confused.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, that small bit of concern that he was going to explode or something still in his voice.

"It broke," First Aid muttered.

It took Swindle a few seconds to realize that First Aid was talking about the monitor and not anything to do with him. He wanted to say something, but his mind drew a complete blank. The whole situation was making him feel a little awkward. Finally, he came up with an adequate reply. "Oh."

"I'll have to fix it right away," First Aid responded as he proceeded with disconnecting the machine from Swindle and the wall. Swindle watched him closely, one optic brow raised. First Aid lifted the device carefully from its perch and gently sat it on the floor. Then he began to neatly roll up the cables, all the while muttering worriedly to himself about what went wrong and why he didn't see it sooner and how he was going to fix it. Swindle understood just fine that First Aid had a gentle nature and that he could show a great amount of compassion to Autobots and even Decepticons, but the Combaticon never thought a non-sentient machine would receive the exact same treatment.

First Aid kept mumbling to himself, looking the dilapidated thing over. Swindle was a little unsettled. "First Aid…" The medic glanced at him when he heard his name. Swindle frowned at him. "It's a machine. You can just replace it with a new one."

First Aid turned back to the monitor, shaking his head. "But something's broken within it. I'm sure it's still good, I just have to fix it. Heh, poor old thing's seen a lot of patients in its days," First Aid grinned, his mood lifting somewhat. Then he patted the monitor affectionately.

Swindle figured this was just a strange quirk that First Aid had and decided to better not make anything of it. Still, he felt a little off put knowing a brainless machine was getting more attention that him.

Once he got the cables and wires organized, First Aid picked up the monitor to leave. Swindle sighed and laid back down. First Aid stopped at the door, looking back at the Combaticon. "I'll be back to check on you soon, Swindle." Swindle only frowned at the ceiling, seemingly ignoring him. First Aid turned to go, but paused again. "I am glad it was only a broken monitor and not really you that gave out, Swindle. I was worried when I saw the lifeline go off."

Swindle remained quiet. First Aid decided to let him be and left the room. Swindle listened to the door slide shut and First Aid's footsteps echoing away. He began wishing he was back at the old desert base again as the silence enveloped the entire medbay once more.

* * *

Short update this time. But I've had this image in my head for some time now and it just had to come out. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Oh dear, almost a year without updating! I'm sorry for the horrible lack, I haven't given up on this story at all, really! Hopefully it won't be such a long time between updates anymore.

* * *

The Combaticon leader's dark form blended well with the moonlit forest. He sat in his vehicle form, still and silent, gazing through the trees at the lights emanating from the valley below, Autobot City lit before him.

Onslaught knew Swindle was there, alive. What he didn't know was for how much longer his brother would be. Hopefully the Autobots hadn't tortured him for information. He doubted they would go to such levels, but that wasn't his only concern. Galvatron was planning an attack on the base, for what reasons exactly, he had yet to inform his soldiers of. Onslaught knew for sure it wasn't to rescue a missing comrade, even if he was part of a vital combiner group. And he knew said comrade wouldn't be missed by the higher ups if he happened to get caught in the crossfire.

Onslaught briefly wondered if Swindle could sense his presence. For the last few days, he had driven out to this spot under the cover of night, silently watching. He had always had a deep connection with his brothers. Being the eldest, he had practically raised them himself. One of their creators had died and the other had been called off to war before he had even reached adult status. He had developed a parental instinct over them though. Somehow he always knew where they were and how they were feeling. When Swindle, the youngest, had nearly died during that last intense battle, all Onslaught had felt was a horrible wrenching deep in his spark. It wasn't just the gestalt connection that had sent him into pain and dread; it was all the years of watching over Swindle, all the devotion that Onslaught had put into making sure he survived the harshest of times, and mostly the terrible feeling of knowing that the sibling he had loved for all his life was slowly being taken away from him. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. He hadn't even been near him when it happened, none of them were. Swindle could have died alone, with not a single member of his family and team there to witness it.

He didn't admit it, even to himself, but Onslaught was thankful an Autobot had found him and was compassionate enough to pull Swindle out of the danger zone. Still, he had to find some way to get his brother out of there.

-

Swindle tried not to stumble onto First Aid as the medic helped him to his feet. He was a little shaky after spending so much time laying flat on a berth, almost completely motionless. He tried to keep his optics focused on the floor when he noticed the medic was grinning at him.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Swindle asked, his voice noticeably quiet.

First Aid glanced up at the ceiling, a little exapserarted with his patient's behavior. "For the last time, no one is going to hurt you on my watch, Swindle." First Aid adjusted his shoulder so the Combaticon wouldn't fall if he couldn't keep his weight up. "You need a little therapy to help you get your strength back."

Swindle raised his head slightly, and smirked. "You sure seem like you're in a hurry to get me fixed up."

The medic frowned for a moment. "It's my duty to help you. If you think I'm just trying to get you out of the base, then you're mistaken."

"So you do care," Swindle mocked, but grinned at him anyway.

The part of him that picked up habits from Ratchet wanted to make him drop his arms to his sides and let Swindle fall to the floor for the comment. But he didn't, because Swindle must have seen the look on the medic's face and the Combaticon immediately turned his optics to the ground again, his smirk gone.

According to Blades, and just about everyone else that wasn't a medic, he didn't have to be doing this. He even knew there were a select few that were angry at him for helping the enemy after all that happened so recently. First Aid ignored them. He was only doing what he was meant to do. When would they learn that his skills were not to be exclusive to just the Autobots? If someone, anyone, needed help and he had the ability to do something about it, he would be there for them.

"Alright now," First Aid said, carefully shifting his arms again, "Try standing on your own."

Swindle leaned his mass over fhis good leg, wobbling a bit, but he was able to steady himself and completely let go of the medic. First Aid smiled at his success, but did not dare move an inch away in case Swindle faltered any. "At least it doesn't hurt," Swindle said, trying to keep from swaying too much as he moved the damaged part.

"It will by the end of the day, but that will be just from exercising its normal movements again," First Aid said happily.

Swindle was expert at analyzing a person's voice and he was quick to catch the undertone. "Just what exactly are you planning?" he asked carefully.

First Aid smiled. "I thought it'd be a good idea to try to take you outside instead of just through the halls. You need some air."

Swindle wasn't sure if he liked that idea or not. Getting some fresh air to cycle out his vents would be nice, but outside meant being away from the medbay. Out in the open. Where others could see him. Mostly other Autobots. Mostly the soldier Autobots...

First Aid picked up on the concern. "Don't worry," he assured. "It'll be fine. Hot Spot agreed to go with us."

Hot Spot. The lead Protectobot. The jeep tensed. _Why me?_ "You do realize that you Protectobots and us Combaticons don't exactly get along well, do you?"

"Well, you and I are," First Aid replied. Swindle couldn't argue with him there. First Aid went on. "What are you saying?"

"It's just...," Swindle wasn't keen on sharing his personal life with others, much less an Autobot, but he doubted First Aid would understand if he didn't explain. "It's just being that I'm the...youngest of my group, I get special attention from Onslaught, whether I ask for it or not. He's our oldest brother and he's got this protectiveness thing about us, especially me. And if I recall correctly, the last couple of times our teams met up, _I_ was the reason Onslaught unleashed his full fury on _your_ commander."

First Aid glanced at the ground, suddenly finding it very fascinating. "I know there's a rivalry between them. Hot Spot was only doing what he had to do at the time in battle, and I'm sorry to say that because he had to hurt you. But now is different, don't you think? We're not fighting each other here."

"...I don't know."

First Aid touched his shoulder reassuringly. "He's only there to make sure no one else bothers us."

_And to make sure I don't try anything with you,_ Swindle thought bitterly.

-

Swindle couldn't keep himself from fidgeting slightly as First Aid walked him to the entry way of the medbay station. Light was pouring in through the opening, and a tall shadow appeared , silhoutted by the sun's rays in the doorway. Swindle tensed as the Protectobot leader locked optics with him. He got the distinct feeling that Hot Spot was sizing him up, despite that in his current state, he was hardly a threat to the larger Autobot.

They stopped in front of the the other Protectobot, standing in an awkward silence for a few seconds. It felt like an eternity to Swindle though. He held the leader's gaze. He was still a proud Combaticon and he wouldn't let the fire truck intimidate him so easily.

"Well," Hot Spot started, looking between the two of them. "What a nice afternoon for a walk outside, eh?"


	5. Chapter 5

Hello all again! Thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad this story still gets readers after such a long time-out. ^^

* * *

First Aid guided Swindle to a secluded area of the base outside, where not many other Autobots would likely be loitering, Hot Spot following quietly behind them. He didn't wish to see any unwanted, or wanted, depending who he asked, confrontations.

This area was home to a small grove of Earth trees, an added feature from their human allies. First Aid heard the humans say that the vegetation would provide some cool shade spots, as well as some decorative aesthetic. He supposed the shade part was working at least.

He nudged Swindle over in that direction, receiving an annoyed look from the Combaticon. He pressed the jeep onward, thinking nothing of the silent remark. He'd seen his share of difficult patients already.

Fortunately, Swindle humored him and complied, heading to the trees. First Aid faintly turned his head as he noticed Hot Spot follow them closely. For once, he tried to intentionally ignore his brother.

They stopped once they were under the shady canopy of the trees. First Aid sat on one of the benches that lined the grove. When his companion didn't readily follow, he motioned for Swindle to sit alongside him. He was slightly surprised when the jeep did so without hesitating. _Maybe he's getting used to me._

They sat in silence, Swindle staring at the ground, sky, or scenery but never meeting the other's gaze. Meanwhile, First Aid was looking over him, not just at his leg, but studying his entire frame, seaching for any signs that might indicate physical stress. Hot Spot stepped to the side, deciding it best to leave the two of them alone for the time being. Though he was careful to not put too much space between him and the odd pair.

Swindle glanced up at the medic, catching his gaze for a moment. First Aid's optics were bright, apparently happy at what he was seeing.

"Are you feeling alright?" the medic asked. "Do you feel any pain at all?"

Swindle was amused by the Autobot's good mood, but he ran a quick scan to check his systems. "I feel fine." However, he didn't mention how his leg was starting to get sore.

"That's great," First Aid responded cheerfully. "I was hoping everything important would be healed by now, at least to where your own recovery systems can take care of the rest."

Swindle cocked an eye ridge at him. "Does that mean-"

First Aid raised a hand to silence him. "I know what you're asking, but I must be truthful with you. Not everything is in my power. I can watch over you and give you medical treatment as long as you need it, but I can't release you."

"Can't you ask someone in charge to let me go?"

"It's not that simple."

Swindle felt a grin tearing at his mouth. "Nobody trusts me, do they? But what have I done really? It was you guys who captured me. And I think I've been pretty well behaved so far. I haven't even tried to escape once!" _Well, except that one time..._

First Aid looked at him hard and Swindle thought it was kind of funny and cute how he glared. He couldn't imagine him being angry. "You couldn't have escaped even if you did try," First Aid said dryly. "You would have been in too much pain and you wouldn't have got very far. Besides, I don't see it as capturing. I did it to help you."

"And now I'm better, so you can let me go."

"I can't."

"Yes you can. You can pull medical rank. Just tell them I'm going crazy from being separated from my team or something and the only way I'll get better is to go back to them."

Swindle smiled at him in his usual charming way and the medic fidgeted at the look. It seemed like he could get First Aid go along with him after all. Then again, he noticed Hot Spot approaching them. His smile faltered.

"Is everything ok, Aid?" the leader asked, noticing his brother's slight nervousness.

_Fragger must have been listening to us_, Swindle thought bitterly. "Hey, we're having a conversation here, if ya don't mind."

Hot Spot glared at him dangerously and moved forward, but First Aid stood up to meet him before he could go any further. Swindle smirked, knowing the head Protectobot was agitated.

"Hot Spot," First Aid tried to distract him away from his patient. "It's alright, it's not a big deal."

Hot Spot looked between his brother and the Combaticon. "I think we should get back inside, don't you First Aid?"

The medic sighed. "I believe so." He then turned to his patient. "Are you ready Swindle?"

The Combaticon nodded, standing up carefully, and beginning to walk back towards the medbay, though hobbling a little with his first few steps. First Aid fell into pace beside him, and Hot Spot followed.

First Aid placed his hand on Swindle's shoulder softly. "Don't worry about him," he whispered in a somewhat awkward way.

Swindle knew Hot Spot was watching him like a hawk. Maybe he should test the waters a little bit more... He placed an arm around First Aid's shoulders, gently pulling him closer and leaning his head into his audio as if to tell him a secret. Though when he spoke, he made sure the Protectobot leader would be able to hear him.

"How about you let me go, and I promise never to shoot at you in battle again?" Swindle glanced behind them and he smirked at how Hot Spot seemed to stiffen at their closeness. "Of course, the terms don't include the rest of your team, but at least you'll always be there to patch them up."

Swindle felt himself violently ripped from his hold on the medic as Hot Spot suddenly stepped between them, forcing First Aid to stand behind him. He faced Swindle with a hard gaze. The Combaticon found himself wobbling slighty, not just from his injured leg, but from the almost-death grip Hot Spot had on his shoulder. Swindle was about to toss the Autobot's arm off when Hot Spot spoke quiet and dangerously.

"You listen to me," he growled. "You do anything to hurt him, in any way at all, and you will find yourself at my mercy. Not at the others', not at Blades', not at Prime's, but at mine. You cross that thin line, and you will return to the same state you were in when we dragged you in here. Or worse."

Swindle only sneered at him. "Guess you already forgot what happened the last time you tried to rip my core out."

"There's no one here to protect you this time," Hot Spot tightened his grip threateningly with that last statement. He was tempted to give the Combaticon a shove as he released him, but he didn't need to upset his brother any further. He stepped to the side, giving First Aid a soft gaze and nodding politely, then walked away, heading back in the direction they came from.

Swindle watched him go, glaring daggers into his back the whole way. _We'll see about that._

"Shall we go back inside?"

First Aid's voice called his attention away from the fire truck. He turned to the medic but found that the blue optic band was focused elsewhere, staring at the ground. Swindle could feel the second set of optics watching him from the doorway to the medbay. He had to grudgingly accept that no matter where he went, those optics would never lose sight of him now. "Fine with me," he said to First Aid, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. He wanted to reserve that for the Protectobot leader.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello again! More chapters coming, finally! This one's a little short, but the next one will be longer. :)

* * *

Now convinced that Swindle's immediate health was safe from any problems with his injury, First Aid requested to have him moved to a more private, comfortable recovery room. Which, according to Hot Spot, meant jail cell. The Protectobot leader had made it very clear that he didn't want the Combaticon loose in the medbay, where they could only do so much to restrain him. Hot Spot felt somewhat better having him locked up in the brig.

That didn't stop First Aid from attending to his patient though. He now made his way down the hallways, towards the cell that held the Combaticon, two energon cubes in hand. Honestly, the medic never felt threatened when around Swindle. First Aid did not see the same malice that was present in a Decepticon's optics while they were staring down an Autobot in the Combaticon's purple orbs. He knew Swindle was tricky, but First Aid hardly felt like he was being manipulated. He had no valuable knowledge other than his medical expertise, and he believed Swindle knew that. So why waste the energy trying to get information that wasn't there? First Aid didn't have much to give other than his compassion.

He did want to get to know Swindle better. To First Aid, the Combaticon was a curious mech. He knew Swindle was greedy, but the medic wondered just how deep it ran_. Apparently enough to sell off his own brothers_, First Aid thought. Everyone from the Nemesis to the Ark had heard about that incident (which his own team was kind of the catalyst for, the medic guiltly admitted). But was that a recurring habit or was it just an isolated event? First Aid had a suspicion that not all was right with the Combaticon when it happened. Being a part of a gestalt as well, First Aid knew the tightly knitted bonds that ran through all of them, bonds that were nearly unbreakable. Something else had to have been going on at the time, and the Protectobot was curious as to what.

...

Swindle had expected to be thrown into the Autobot brig eventually, but he couldn't say he didn't wish he was still in the medbay. The berth in his cell was hard and worn out, and he had to test it to see if it would hold his full weight or not. The lights were much dimmer and it was horribly quiet. No hypnotic-like humming from random machines and medical equipment. Most of all, no First Aid. Swindle had become use to constantly being in the medic's presence.

Once he was certain the old berth wouldn't give out under him, he laid on his back, stretching out his limbs. He had a feeling he would start to miss the medic's friendly chatter. First Aid had managed to strike up simple conversations with him, the subjects being about random things other than Swindle's current health condition, and the Combaticon had humored him with pleasant small talk.

That gentle voice was like an echo fading farther and farther away.

Now he was finally in the brig, and now he really had to start worrying about how long he would be there. His hopes of First Aid caving in to his whining about how much he missed his brothers had been shattered. First Aid might be caring and wanting only the well being of others, but he still had to follow orders from his own superiors. The higher-ups had decided that Swindle was officially their prisoner.

And his brothers... Where was his team? Surely Onslaught would've come up with some way to get him out already. Unless the other Decepticons had made their way back to Chaar. But his team, they wouldn't leave him, would they?

He beat down the swell of desperation that he felt building in his core. _They wouldn't leave me in another box_. He focused his mind on them, searching for any sign of their presence through their gestalt bond. He rarely called to them this way, always taking for granted the use of internal radios and private channels. He could no longer use those, at least as long as he was here, which he hoped wouldn't be forever.

After a few minutes of concentration, he felt them, though not as deep as he had wished. He knew they were alive and well, but that was about all he could pick up. He didn't feel their immediate presence, which meant they were not close by. It was difficult to say if they were ten miles away or across the galaxy.

Something in him sincerely wished he was with them right now instead of locked up in the Autobot's brig for an indefinite amount of time. He turned on his side, unconsciously curling into himself as he tried not to think about how small the cell really was.

There had to be some way out.

...

First Aid wasn't sure what made him tense as he approached the cell door to Swindle's prison. As he paused he turned to the guard that was on duty. "Has Swindle requested any assistance with his injury recently, Bluestreak?"

The gunner shook his head. "Nope. You know, he's actually been pretty quiet ever since he came down here. I think he might be in recharge."

First Aid looked to the door again. "That's good, I guess." He still felt uneasy. He thought he heard what sounded like a faint whimper come from behind the door. "May I go in?"

...

Swindle was surprised to wake up on the floor when he had been sure he'd fallen asleep on the berth. An unpleasant fog was lingering in his head, seeming to weigh him down and for a while, he thought he wouldn't be able to sit up. He just stared at the ceiling, wondering how he ended up in this position.

"Swindle?"

He then realized he wasn't alone. Something about seeing First Aid looming over him, concern radiating off the medic, made the haziness dissipate quicker. He lifted himself onto his elbows, First Aid supporting him from behind.

"Are you alright?" First Aid offered him a hand and Swindle took it, suddenly becoming aware that he was shaking.

"I-I don't know..." Even he was surprised at how hoarse he sounded.

First Aid stroked his hand gently. "Come on, let's get you off the floor." He helped Swindle to his feet and walked him back over to the berth. Swindle sat on the edge, First Aid settling down next to him.

"This is the second time this has happened, Swindle." First Aid spoke quietly, a brush of concern lacing his voice.

"Yeah..." Swindle muttered, staring at the floor. Why did he feel so tired?

"Does this happen often?"

Swindle was a little surprised by the question. He looked at the medic, trying to figure out how he would answer. "Not really. I just have more nightmares now after being..." Swindle hesitated. This wasn't something him or any of his brothers were too keen to talk about. He continued, "...well, I have bad dreams a lot, but rarely do they happen like this."

First Aid tried to keep his gaze, but Swindle turned back to studying the floor. First Aid drew back to what was almost said before. "After being imprisoned? I've read files on you and your brothers. That must have been a horrible thing."

No one had never shown him or his team sympathy for their punishment. He never expected, or wanted, to receive any either. For First Aid to say such a thing about it had taken him aback, and Swindle wasn't sure how he should react.

First Aid could see Swindle was troubled by something, the Combaticon seeming to be having an internal battle with himself. First Aid caught his hand before it could reach the mech beside him. He wanted to touch him, give him some kind of comfort, but he hesitated and wondered if it would be appropriate. It was a sensitive, personal thing, and First Aid wasn't sure if he could ever really understand what it must have been like to be imprisoned in a box for millions of years. He was suddenly aware of what a small cell they had placed Swindle in, and he couldn't help but feel a little guilty about it.

The medic wondered if anyone had ever tried to help Swindle and his brothers with the trauma such an event would cause. He guessed probably not, if what he had witnessed earlier was any indication.

Swindle was sitting with his arms set on his upper legs, his head gripped by his hands. His body still trembled and his vents were breathing out ragged spouts of heated air. First Aid hated seeing anyone in such distress. Even if no one had ever bothered before, he couldn't just sit there and do nothing when he might, just might, be able to help.

Swindle twitched slightly when he felt First Aid press himself against his side. He froze as the medic placed his arms around his shoulders, holding him lightly. "It'll be alright, Swindle," he just barely heard the medic whisper. He sat as a still as he could with his body refusing to stop shaking, a thread of worry somewhere deep in his frazzled mind that the Autobot might try to do something to him. He knew he just wanted to help, it was First Aid's nature, he reminded himself. _Come on, Swin, just relax..._

First Aid was half-expecting the Combaticon to throw him off once he touched him, so when Swindle actually leaned into his embrace, he had to stop and wrap his mind around the situation before he realized what was happening. Surprised, but not deterred, he held onto the jeep tighter. "It'll be alright," he repeated softly.


	7. Chapter 7

Swindle never expected First Aid to go away after suffering a somewhat nervous breakdown right in front of the medic, which, now that his cpu was clearing, made it all the more embarrassing. First Aid was now seated on the floor of the cell to give him space, facing the Combaticon who sat on the berth, one of the energon cubes he had brought cupped lightly in his hand. His face mask had been removed, and every so often, Swindle noticed that the medic's icy blue optics would settle on him before going back to the contents of his cube. Swindle wanted to lay down on his side, at least that way First Aid wouldn't have a clear view of his face. But he needed to drink the energy the medic brought for him. His systems felt like they were starving.

That was also embarrassing. He usually had more stamina than he did over the few past days. His team was trained to go for long periods without refueling, and he knew there was no reason he should be feeling so tired.

Swindle flexed the digits of his hands, his previous trembling having finally ceased and allowing him to reach for the cube that had been sitting patiently on the small table next to the berth. When he lifted the cube to his mouth, the flow of the energon washing down his throat sent a jolt through his systems, helping to take away a little of the fatigue.

First Aid was watching him, but Swindle noticed the medic didn't look worried, searching, fascinated, curious, anxious, expecting, or any thing of the like. He was just watching, the blue gaze roaming calmly over the dark face until finally settling on Swindle's optics again where they remained fixed.

"Why are you so interested in my optics?" Swindle asked, his voice hoarse, but a small amusement still noticeably present.

First Aid shifted a little, sitting straighter and stretching his back, smiling. "I apologize for staring so much. I suppose I've just never seen their color in any other mech's."

"Well if you meet Blast Off, that'll make two mechs you know with them." Swindle paused, the slightest frown crossing his features. "Though, his are lighter than mine," he muttered.

First Aid let an awkward silence pass between them. He may have been fascinated by the mech's optics, but First Aid also caught the way Swindle stared at _his_ face while his mask was removed and the Combaticon thought he wasn't looking. The silence continued for a few moments before First Aid broke it. "I know you miss them. I do wish I could send you back to them. I have brothers of my own, but..." Silence again as First Aid searched for words, though he wasn't even sure which ones he was looking for. "...just try to hold on a little longer."

Swindle gazed at him. "How long?"

First Aid wished he knew.

Swindle knew he wasn't going to get an answer. Not from First Aid anyway. He would be released whenever the Autobots got tired of feeding him, he supposed.

He stared at First Aid again. He thought it strange that the medic would put himself in such a vulnerable position so easily. First Aid had to really be trusting him right now to be locked with him in the cell. Swindle wasn't even restrained.

"Why are you here?"

First Aid looked up at the question, a little confused. "Here?"

Swindle frowned. "You know what I mean First Aid. I'm a Decepticon, you're an Autobot. We're both from rival teams. Why are you being so nice to me? And don't tell me it's just because I'm your patient."

First Aid's optics darkened as he frowned, and Swindle believed it was the first time he had ever seen the medic being something close to angry. Interesting, he thought. Maybe he had struck a nerve... First Aid spoke. "They all ask me the same question." His was voice low and bitter. "It's because all everyone ever does is fight. No one ever stops to ask how things could be done differently. I like you, Swindle. I think we could be friends if we had a chance."

"You really are a pacifist," Swindle smirked, but then it faltered when First Aid looked back up at him. Swindle was caught off guard, First Aid actually _glared_ at him.

The medic appeared to want to say something, but he hesitated and turned his optics back to the floor. A long, miserable sigh escaped his vents. "Go ahead," he ground out. "Tell me I'm wrong. Say I'm an idiot for thinking like that, for thinking things could ever get better than they are now." He looked up at Swindle again. "I've heard it from everyone on the Autobot end, now how about your side?"

Swindle couldn't believe First Aid actually was getting angry. From what he witnessed so far, he didn't think the Protectobot was capable of it. The smirk returned to his face. "Pacifist or not, you do have some bite in you after all...so why do you let them say that to you?"

The blue optics softened again. "I don't know..."

Swindle found himself amused. The medic was so quick to fall back into his shell. "You want to hear the Decepticon side of things, huh? You don't let people talk like that about you and let them get away with it." First Aid's optics widened and he opened his mouth to protest. Swindle stopped him though. "I'm not saying for you to go and take a laser rifle to their heads, like I know a few of my good old comrades would. I'm saying you shouldn't just let anybody walk all over you with what they think is right and not tell them otherwise. If you don't defend yourself, they're never gonna take you seriously."

Swindle eased off the berth and set down gently in front of the medic, grasping his chin lightly with his thumb and forefinger, looking him straight in the optics. His voice was low, but stern. "You don't feel sorry for yourself. Ever."

First Aid studied him for a moment, holding still from the touch. "How do I defend myself?"

"You just do it," Swindle answered. "Whatever it takes." He smiled, an idea forming in his head. "Should I show you?"

First Aid nodded slowly. Swindle suddenly leaned forward and pressed his mouth against the other's, catching the medic off guard with a rough kiss.

First Aid panicked, and shoved Swindle harshly in the chest with both hands, breaking the kiss apart. "Swindle!" he panted, completely flustered.

That smirk returned to Swindle's face again. "See? It wasn't that hard, was it?"

The medic scooted back, his optics still wide with shock. Swindle settled back, leaning against the berthside and letting the poor Protectobot have some space. "Relax, 'Aid. It was just a demonstration. You passed."

First Aid forced himself to focus once more. Now Swindle was using his nickname. And that tingling feeling on his lip components wasn't going away. "I-I guess you have a point," he muttered. There was an awkward pause. Then, "You don't think I'm weak, do you?"

"I can tell you anything you want to hear, 'Aid. Believe me, I'm an expert at that." Swindle grinned slightly, but his gaze soon hardened on the other again. "That's not a question you should be asking people, especially a Decepticon. If you think you're weak, you find a way to make yourself strong. Otherwise, you're off to the scrapheap."

Swindle cycled air through his vents, letting that info sink in a little. First Aid looked solemnly at the floor. Swindle spoke again, "Just for the record though, no, I don't think you're weak."

First Aid perked up at the statement, his optics shining. "Really?"

"I've seen you put up with Blades," Swindle said. "You cannot be a weakling if you have to live with a helicopter. Trust me, I know."

It appeared Swindle was successful in lifting the mood of the room because First Aid smiled at him. Swindle kindly returned the gesture.

...

Three more days went by. First Aid never slipped on his daily trips to see Swindle, which were nothing more than for him to provide the Combaticon with some company. Even if he couldn't spare the time to enter the cell, the medic at least still made an effort to have a quick friendly conversation while he dropped off Swindle's daily ration.

This innocent activity was enough to bother a few mechs, mostly Blades, who eventually confronted Hot Spot about it. The Protectobot leader always assured that everything was fine, and that he was sure to keep a close watch on what ever happened. What he didn't tell the others though, was that he was having a hard time convincing his own self that all was well.

As much as he supported First Aid doing a good deed, the way his brother could talk to the enemy prisoner with such ease, like he had known him for eons, set Hot Spot a little on edge. He knew he could trust First Aid with his life, but he didn't share the same sentiment for the Decepticon.

What made matters worse were the reports he received that more Decepticons started appearing to be active on Earth again. In particular, the Combaticon group. Nothing major had happened yet, there had just been confirmed sightings by both humans and Autobot patrols. No one had any clue of what they may be up to. No aggressive or suspicious incidents had taken place. Though if Hot Spot knew they were coming for Swindle, which he certainly believed since he would never leave one of his own gestalt mates in enemy hands, he didn't care what First Aid said. He would keep the medic as far from the danger zone as possible.

That was his plan anyway. Standing near the back entrance to the med bay, where First Aid had led Swindle outside not too long ago, Hot Spot went over and over again in his mind of all the different scenarios that could happen should he have to put his plan into motion.

Though his brooding was interrupted when his comm pinged.

...

"Guess who's here to feed you today!"

Swindle rolled on his side facing the wall, trying to ignore the red twin terror. Sideswipe though seemed intent on bothering him. The Autobot continued to stare daggers into Swindle's back until he got a response.

The Combaticon finally snapped at him. "Where's First Aid?"

Sideswipe smirked. "Can't I even come and see how an old friend's doing?"

"It's nice to know you care," Swindle muttered. He finally turned over again.

Sideswipe smiled at him. Swindle could feel the Autobot studying him closely. He noticed Sideswipe cock his head slightly as the twin spoke. "So, what's wrong?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Swindle snapped again. "I think you should be able to tell by now."

"What?" Sideswipe smiled innocently. "You're trapped deep in enemy territory, crippled, unarmed, and stuck in a bad mood?"

Swindle didn't answer him, choosing instead to ignore him in favor of staring at the floor. He remained quiet for a moment. "I don't like being locked up, Swipe."

"No one does," Sideswipe said quietly. "I've heard First Aid's been talking to you a lot lately."

"And?"

"At least there's someone to distract you." Sideswipe narrowed his optics. "He's a good mech, Swindle. In my opinion, he would be a lot better off not knowing people like us. He only wants to do what's right. Just keep him out of the business."

"Of what value could he be to me anyways, Swipe? Besides making sure no one slags me in my sleep here? And helping me keep my sanity…" Swindle waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, nothing's gonna happen to him."

"I hope so," Sideswipe muttered. "For your sake. Just don't do anything stupid."

The red Autobot set Swindle's ration down and left quietly.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to everyone who's still reading this story and giving it alerts & favs! That makes me happy! This chapter starts to move things along a bit. As a heads up, this story will include a few ocs from my other fic, Dustdevils, as minor characters here, namely the two sparklings featured in that series. They're not in this chap, but will be mentioned in the next one. They're...kinda needed for the plot.

Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Reviews make me happy! ^^

* * *

It had seemed like a routine mission enough, but Hot Spot couldn't help being a little extra on edge. Chase two Combaticons, Onslaught and Brawl, out of the city's limits with the help of the Aerialbots. At the time, the other half of Bruticus were unaccounted for, and the Combaticon leader and the tank were acting unusually passive. Not a single human casualty was recorded during the entire event.

Now looking back, Hot Spot knew he'd been right to feel the unease creeping up his backstrut. Onslaught and Brawl had led his team into the countryside on a chase dotted with light weapon fire. Just as he thought everything was working in their favor a little too easily, Hot Spot had been hit from above. The blast knocked him off the road and he just barely caught the silhouette of a shuttle pulling out of a dive as he rolled.

Hot Spot transformed, ignoring the sting from the blast and immediately calling for the location of each of his brothers. Blades was engaging Vortex who had appeared along with Blast Off, and Groove and Streetwise were handling the shuttle and Brawl. First Aid was by his side in an instant and Hot Spot realized he had been the only one injured so far. He could hear Onslaught's wheels spinning on dirt not far away and he saw the Combaticon making a hard turn back for the two of them.

Hot Spot ran from First Aid before the medic could protest, determined to keep Onslaught's sights on himself only. He transformed back into vehicle mode and drove straight ahead.

Onslaught barreled into him, hitting with enough force to throw Hot Spot back several yards. Hot Spot landed on his side and transformed immediately. He tried to reach for his gun.

"Stop."

Onslaught was faster. The Combaticon leader now stood above him, his rifle pointed at Hot Spot. The Autobot let his hand fall from his weapon's subspace pocket, silently glaring at the other. Warning signs flashed across his vision, telling him that his damage was worse than he thought. So maybe rushing the Combaticon head on hadn't been the best idea, but at least First Aid was a good distance away from Onslaught.

"Hot Spot!"

Slag it.

First Aid stopped short of the two leaders. Onslaught ignored him and spoke directly to his rival. "I have something to offer you." Hot Spot didn't respond, choosing instead to save any energy he had left for his repair systems. Onslaught continued. "I want Swindle back. I do not expect you to hand him over easily, so in exchange I'm willing to provide you with Galvatron's upcoming battle plans."

A confused flicker went over Hot Spot's optics, but the Combaticon caught it and answered his question for him. "If you haven't yet noticed, Galvatron is slipping deeper and deeper into insanity. I will not risk my team's well being front-lining random raids that have little to almost nothing to gain as far as improving our miserable state of affairs."

"You're rebelling," Hot Spot managed to ground out.

"Yes, at least against the current hierarchy in place anyway. And the Combaticons are not the only group with the same thing in mind. I'm offering you a great advantage in overpowering Galvatron once and for all, Autobot. Give me Swindle, and we will leave."

This time, First Aid asked Hot Spot's next question, "Leave where?"

"Far enough away that you will not be bothered by us for a time," Onslaught answered calmly. "I have other plans to attend to rather than continuing to fight on a losing side."

Hot Spot narrowed his optics. "And if the Autobots refuse?"

Onslaught's visor darkened as he stared at First Aid for a moment. He then turned his gaze menacingly at the Protectobot leader once more. "Then I will have to come into your safe and secure base and drag Swindle out myself. And let me remind you, Hot Spot, my aim is far more accurate than Galvatron's."

...

After a not so pleasant day happening already, Hot Spot didn't expect the meeting with the higher ups to go so well. But he soon found out that at least Prime was willing to agree a little bit on his side.

"I understand your concern for your teammates, Hot Spot," Rodimus stated. "I do believe our prisoner has outlasted his welcome here. If there could be a peaceful exchange, I'm willing to try to make that work."

Ultra Magnus looked on, unconvinced. "Can Onslaught be trusted? He may just be luring us. How can we be sure we're not just repairing a Decepticon gestalt for future attacks against us. We have an advantage here, even with just one enemy combiner disabled."

"Sir, I have to believe Onslaught is being truthful on at least some level," Hot Spot tried to choose his words carefully. It was hard to deal others whom never shared a gestalt link. "I can understand his need to get a team member back."

Rodimus Prime looked to Ultra Magnus. "And if he is willing to give up future battle plans, it would benefit us all the better."

"It's the reason why he seems so willing to give up Galvatron's plans so easily that has me worried," Magnus said, looking directly at Hot Spot. "He said he would be going where, exactly?"

Hot Spot shook his head. "He never mentioned a location. He only stated that he has 'other plans'."

"Which could not be anything good for us, coming from someone who's rebelled against Megatron more than once," Ultra Magnus said grimly.

"Still," Prime spoke up again, "If the Combaticons are going to abandon Galvatron for a while, it would put a dent in his forces. They and the Predacons are the most utilized combiners in his attacks."

"He said there would be others as well," Hot Spot remembered the painful incident. "From what it sounds like, Galvatron isn't very popular among the elder Decepticon forces."

"We can only hope that is indeed the case," Prime said, looking to Ultra Magnus. "What do you say, old friend? Perhaps we should arrange for a prisoner transfer."

Ultra Magnus stared firmly at the Protectobot leader, still a bit unconvinced. "Perhaps. Get Onslaught to hand over his battle plans first."

Hot Spot nodded, understanding. He just had no idea how to make that happen.

...

Things returned to business as usual the next day. Which made Swindle glad, since even after just one, he doubted he could stand another visit from Sideswipe. Being under the mercy of a life-long rival was just degrading. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like if Smokescreen had shown up...

Though, Swindle could sense that First Aid was not his usual self when he walked up to the cell. The medic was oddly quiet while he gave his greetings and the happy glint that was normally held in his optics was lacking. Swindle decided to pry a little.

"So, where were you yesterday? I was surprised when you didn't show up." Swindle added a friendly smile while he spoke, trying to make it look and sound like it was a good-natured enough question.

"I got called out," First Aid said softly. Swindle began to think he'd have to try to get him to elaborate further but First Aid looked him hard in the optics. "Onslaught is looking for you. He wants you returned in exchange for future attack plans. "

Inside, Swindle felt a pang of hope.

First Aid glanced at the floor and Swindle caught the shadow that crossed his face. "I think Hot Spot and the higher-ups are considering his offer." For a moment, the medic appeared guilty, as if he wasn't supposed to be telling Swindle this information.

"You think they're really going to let me go." It was a statement, not a question, and Swindle knew it was true because First Aid looked at him again with pleading optics.

"I know this may seem selfish and unrealistic, but I felt it was...important for me to ask you to stay."

Swindle stared at him. He thought he should be laughing in the Protectobot's face for even thinking such a thing, but he didn't feel it would be...right. "Do you even know what you're asking me to do?" he said softly.

"Yes, and that's why I know you won't," First Aid answered sadly. "I shouldn't even be telling you this. I should never have mentioned anything at all, but..." He got stuck on his words again. His optics were locked intently onto Swindle's as if searching for something. "I want to be friends with you, Swindle. I know you're not like the other Decepticons...I could help you..."

"How could you know anything about me?" Even though he tried not to, Swindle knew he growled at him. "How could you know what the others are like? I've only known you for a week at most. You can't just accept me without doing the same for my brothers!"

First Aid cast his optics to floor, ashamed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

Now Swindle had to force himself to calm down. "I'm just a part of one whole, Aid. You know that. You're exactly the same."

"I just don't want to see you keep suffering."

"What are you talking about?" Swindle knew there was something else hidden under that statement.

First Aid looked at him sternly. "I've monitored you during recharge. You exhibit signs of major trauma in your sleep. I believe it may have to do with your past imprisonment."

Swindle was silent.

"I should have told you sooner. But I believe there may be a way to help you, with the right therapies and treatments. And your brothers. They must be showing the same signs as you."

Swindle didn't know what to say. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. I know that what you went through had to be painful. You should never have gone through that."

"We did what we had to," Swindle whispered angrily, mostly to himself. That voice though. Swindle knew he shouldn't, couldn't be angry at a voice that sounded so caring. Still, the darkness that tried to swallow him in recharge attempted to make itself known now.

"I'm sorry, Swindle."

First Aid tried hard not to flinch as his back met the wall. Swindle pinned his arms to his side, holding him in place. Swindle's face was close to his, his optics burning. "Don't say that," he ground out. His voice was harder than usual. "You can't know, you will never understand. You can't be my friend!"

The sudden attack surprised him. He knew Swindle was still stronger than him, he was a Decepticon, but First Aid couldn't help but notice how Swindle held his weight on only one leg. The medic knew if things got worse, he could kick out and knock the other off balance, but he sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that. "Swindle..." First Aid started. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't apologize! We completed our mission, we did what we had to!" Swindle raised his voice more, but it was hardly a shout. First Aid heard the Combaticon's voice falter. "You weren't there...you don't know any of it." For a moment Swindle's head dropped and First Aid could no longer see his face as he continued, nearly choking his words this time. "You'll never know..."

"Swindle," First Aid tried again, but this time only saying his name. Swindle brought his gaze back up, and First Aid could tell he was fighting with himself as he stared at him. The grip on First Aid's arms loosened, and Swindle took a step back. First Aid freed himself from the wall, but he made no other movement.

Neither of them moved or spoke. First Aid wasn't sure how long he remained still, but he knew that small instant felt much longer than it actually lasted.

"Sorry," Swindle whispered. First Aid held in the relieved sigh that wanted to escape him, even though he knew Swindle had finally relaxed. The Combaticon tried to look him in the optic but seemed to be having trouble keeping his gaze still.

"I didn't...hurt you, did I?"

First Aid wondered why that question seemed to make the Combaticon look so uncomfortable. "I'm alright," he answered softly. "I'm worried about you, Swindle."

Swindle turned from him and hobbled back to the berth. He sat with his back leaned against the wall. "I just need to be left alone right now."

It seemed First Aid would oblige him, as he turned and walked out the cell, the door-lock clicking into place unusually loud. Swindle let himself go limp, letting gravity take over and falling on his side on the berth. Onslaught was coming for him. That thought alone made the last tendrils of darkness disappear from his aching cpu. If what First Aid said was true, he wouldn't have to be here much longer.

But...

He turned on his back, running his hands over his face. _What is going on with me!_


	9. Chapter 9

Hot Spot hated asking something so stupid of his brother, but he couldn't think of any other place to begin. They were going to hand Swindle over back to the Decepticons, and Hot Spot needed to know what would make that go as smoothly as possible for everybody involved. First Aid was the closest to the Combaticon, (Hot Spot hated admitting that) and he would know how to approach Swindle best. Though the way First Aid was looking at him right now made him want to turn around and walk away, pretending this conversation had never started in the first place.

"You understand, right?" Hot Spot asked.

First Aid nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, a little too soft than he intended.

Hot spot had to vent a sigh. He placed a hand on the medic's shoulder. "I wouldn't ask it of you if there was another way."

First Aid stared at the ground for a moment before grabbing a hold of the hand on his frame. Hot Spot heard a soft sigh escape the medic's vents as well. First Aid then looked up at him, a slightly different light in his optics than before. "I'll do it, Hot Spot."

...

What exactly First Aid was supposed to say, he had no clue. He'd already left his last meeting with Swindle on a bad note, he felt. He doubted he would still be on good speaking terms with the Combaticon.

Swindle never divulged much about his team, even when First Aid asked just out of friendly curiosity. It was a subject he didn't seem comfortable with, and First Aid had to remember that, technically, he was still an enemy to the Combaticon. Family dynamic wasn't something to be shared so casually. But he knew Swindle wanted to go home. If he could show Swindle that was trying to get him back to his brothers, then maybe he would have his cooperation.

First Aid stepped near the cell. He drew a quick breath of cool air in before entering. Once he was inside, he remained near the exit, in case the conversation eroded quickly. Swindle looked lazily up to meet him but remained where he laid on the berth.

First Aid opened his mouth, almost apologizing for his previous behavior, but then he remembered that was the reason he'd been attacked the last time. He put his normally polite manners aside for awhile, and started with something else instead. "You're going to be released."

Swindle tried not to look too eager, remaining where he was. "So it's official then? When do I go?"

"Well, I need some help from you first."

The way he said it made Swindle narrow his optics a little. "You've given up on me, have you? That was fast."

First Aid inwardly flinched, but held his ground. "We need to know what Onslaught needs in order for a peaceful trade to take place."

Swindle laughed softly to himself. "Heh, it's me, there's not much else you could give him. Do you want to know his favorite color so you can put a bow on my head? He's pretty straightforward when it comes to my brothers and I."

The medic shifted slightly, now feeling just as cautious around the Combaticon as he had been when he confronted him the first time inside Metroplex. "That's it, then? Just a clean trade?" he prodded, trying to sound unconvinced.

Swindle turned over on his back, arms folded under his head. "You think you're going to get backstabbed by ol' Ons? _I'm_ the one you have to worry about in that department, remember?"

First Aid felt his strength cracking. "There's one more thing then." He remained silent for awhile, and Swindle turned his gaze back on him, waiting. First Aid forced himself to ask the question that wasn't his. "Do you know why he's rebelling against Galvatron?"

Swindle stared at him, studying his optics. First Aid tried his best not to look away. He certainly felt any trust he had built with the Combaticon over the past cycles suddenly shatter and be blown into dust.

"Well, let's see," Swindle started, still keeping his gaze locked on the medic. "There's the fact that everyone's starving into becoming offline. His strategies have holes you could drive a Prime through, hence the reason I'm here in the first place. He could care less about the well-being of my nephew and the Constructicon runt, the future of the Decepticon bloodline, mind you. And, oh, yeah, I forgot…he's completely insane."

While a part of First Aid knew those were not the only reasons, he couldn't summon the will to ask again. He also had the slight feeling that perhaps maybe even Swindle didn't know Onslaught's direct motive. There was something he did want to know though. "If Onslaught does rebel, and leaves Galvatron, would he ever consider the offer I gave you?"

First Aid waited for another explosion, but it never came. Swindle seemed to be thinking about it. "I might mention it sometime."

That was the only response the medic received on that matter. A little flare of hope lit up inside him, but he stifled it before it could grow too big. "Ok then," he said quietly, and turned for the exit. "I'll let you know when you're to leave." And with that, First Aid left, leaving Swindle staring at the spot the medic once occupied.

...

Onslaught had been talking to Astrotrain about the shuttle's findings when the word came in about a new raid against Autobot City. Like so many times before, Onslaught could feel his carefully concocted strategy slipping away. It was too early. He needed more time. He hadn't even heard back from the Autobots, though he was sure they would accept his offer. Leave it to his insane leader to not listen to any of his suggestions, or better yet, pretend he didn't even exist. Whatever Galvatron was after in this raid, Onslaught could care less. He would have to alter his strategy.

They were waiting in an abandoned human mine until they received further orders. Onslaught suspected they would hear the message soon to move out. Everyone kept close and silent, saving their energy. At least they were able to scrounge up a bit of energon now that they were on Earth for a few days. Primus knew they needed it just to stay online at this point. Rainburn and Dualer, the only sparklings the Decepticon side had, as far as he knew, were finally beginning to show signs of fading. He and Hook made a mutually beneficial agreement to keep each other's offspring alive, dedicating every last drop they could spare to keep the two young Decepticons on a functioning level. Onslaught assured the medic Dualer would be safe under his wing when the time came to put his now newly-labeled Plan B into action.

...

Swindle lay still on his berth, listening to the warning klaxons blaring through the walls around him. His optics were half-lit, staring blankly at the floor. So it had finally happened. The Decepticons were attacking the Autobot base. Somehow he couldn't find the energy to move. His mind remained blank, but his spark flared softly, hoping to pick up on at least one familiar pulse somewhere in all the chaos happening outside.

Explosions rocked the foundations of the base, and Swindle was jittered a little bit more awake by the rumbling. He remained on the berth, shutting his optics and trying his best to focus on the inside. He should have practiced calling on his brothers this way a lot more since becoming a gestalt. It would come in very handy at a moment like this. All five of them were so resistant to the idea of being forced into a combiner, they tried to pretend Bruticus didn't exist outside of the battlefield.

There were flickers, he could feel they were there, but he couldn't pinpoint their exact location. It didn't matter, he tried to convince himself. Onslaught would find him. Onslaught always found him, even since his days as a youngling when there was no gestalt link. No matter where he disappeared to, his eldest brother knew exactly where to look.

Footsteps could be heard running down the hall, but they were too light to belong to a Combaticon. Swindle sat up and saw a figure approach the cell door. He already knew who it was.

First Aid stepped through the door, trying to cover up the slight panic that had graced his features as he ran his way down here. Hardly did he wear his mask anymore when dealing with his patient. _Except there's the problem_, First Aid thought, _he's not my patient anymore. _"Your team is here," First Aid said, trying to keep his voice calm. "You have to go now, before I get called to form Defensor."

Swindle thought for a split second that what he was hearing was too good to be true, and he hesitated moving towards the exit.

First Aid forced himself to calm down, sensing the Combaticon's wariness. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'll help get you out of here."

"You're just letting me go?" Swindle asked cautiously, though he knew he had no reason to doubt the medic. "No one's going to stop me? What about the guards, or your leader?"

"Hot Spot knows what I'm doing," First Aid replied softly. "He thinks it's for the best. No one is going to stop you on the way out."

Swindle looked at him skeptically. "It's your only chance," First Aid said solemnly.

"But then once I'm outside, I'm free game for anyone, eh?" Swindle narrowed his optics. How was he supposed to defend himself? He had the distinct feeling that this little operation was something going on only between the medic and his team leader.

First Aid reached behind him. "That's why I brought you this." He produced a very familiar black scatter blaster. Swindle hadn't even noticed it being carried on the medic's back. The sight of his favorite weapon was enough for him to reach out greedily.

First Aid kept his grip on the blaster, looking Swindle in the optics. Swindle caught his gaze and kept himself from ripping the weapon out of the medic's hands.

Swindle stared at him for a moment. "Go," the medic said, standing slightly off to the side, releasing his hold on the blaster and clearing the path for Swindle to make a run for it. "I'll cover for you."

Swindle stepped outside the cell, pausing to look at the medic. First Aid drew his gaze to floor, refusing to look Swindle in the optics. "Thanks, Aid," Swindle said quietly, staring for a second more before making his way outside.

First Aid remained by the cell door after Swindle disappeared down the corridor.

Most of the Autobots were preoccupied with fighting off the attacking Decepticons, so he had no trouble making it outside. Chaos surrounded him out in the open. It appeared all three gestalts were present. Swindle could make out individual members of Devastator and Menasor on the ground, and his spark almost leapt in joy when Blast Off and Vortex flew roaring overhead, though they did not see him as they engaged the Aerialbots. If he could just find Onslaught or Brawl on the ground…

Swindle remembered he was still on the Autobot side of the line, which meant hundreds of stray shots would be flying straight toward him. He could make out an area near the hillsides surrounding the fortress that wasn't as hot as his current location. He quickly transformed, forcing his sore leg to fold up with the rest of his body, and he sped off toward the bridges hoping one was still extended over the moat.

Swindle kept his focus on the green of the forest ahead him, pushing his engine as hard as he could to make it across the bridge. Something appeared in the corner of his vision and he had just enough time to swerve before a large blue and white mass nearly collided with him. The momentum of the sudden turn caused him to spin, leaving him headlight to headlight with Ultra Magnus.

The large Autobot transformed, and Swindle took advantage of the momentary shock to speed away again. Ultra Magnus stared after the yellow jeep, making a mental note to have a very important conversation with Hot Spot once they fended off the attacking Decepticons.

Swindle was almost completely across one of the bridges when he suddenly stopped moving forward. His tires were rolling but he remained in place, and he realized the bridge was being drawn back. He accelerated as much as he could, launching himself off the bridge and transforming midair. His chest impacted the other side, his hands clawing into the pavement to grab purchase. He managed to heave himself atop the edge, wasting not an astrosecond to rest as he shifted back to vehicle mode and made for the cover of the trees.

...

Onslaught crouched low among the rocks, his attention seemingly stretched in every direction. He was watching intently what was happening on the battlefield, observing his brothers' actions and keeping mind of the two nervous young sparklings huddled at his pedes.

The Combaticon leader tried not to curse with the two young ones so close to him, but the firefight was slowly climbing the ridge where they were taking shelter. Rainburn and Dualer would be safe inside his altmode's cabin if he had to move. There was still no sign of Swindle. He had faith that his youngest sibling would find a way out of the fortress with such a heavy distraction laid upon the Autobots, but he still had Brawl standing by ready to blast a hole in the enemy's walls if need be.

"Father!"

Onslaught ignored Rainburn as he fired at a couple Autobots down below. He was determined to hold their position as long as possible.

"Father!"

"Not now Rain!" Onslaught shouted. More Autobots had spotted them and were trying to make their way up the ridge.

"Onslaught, look!"

This time it was Dualer, the tiny Constructicon, that tried to get his attention. Onslaught paused in his firing to see what the children were so excited about. A huge wave of relief washed over him when he saw Swindle approaching their location.

Something close to pure happiness hit Swindle when he came upon Onslaught's position, but the feeling was quickly ripped away from him when he saw what was sitting at his brother's feet.

"Swindle!" Rainburn immediately latched onto his leg once he transformed. Swindle tried not to flinch at the pain that shot up his body from being squeezed in his sore spot. He crouched down with the two sparklings and allowed himself to rest for a minute before unleashing his anger at Onslaught.

"You're crazy bringing Rainburn and Dualer here Onslaught! Just what do you think you're doing?"

Onslaught was glad to hear the fury in Swindle's voice. It meant he was at least adequately energized. That was good because he needed Swindle to help him carry out his plan. "Swindle, take Rainburn and Dualer to the Lower Base. You will wait for us there until we return with more energon."

At first, the smaller Combaticon had thought he'd misheard over the laserfire. The anger he had before suddenly intensified. "Are you serious Ons? You're just going to leave?"

Onslaught pushed him down to dodge a blast. "We've found something Swindle. A planet rich with energy that is completely untouched by the Autobots. Things are going to change for the better, but I need your help if anything is going to work! "

"We need you here, Onslaught," Swindle ground out slowly. "Rainburn needs you here! You said we have to stay together!"

"Swindle," Onslaught gazed at him sternly. "This is the only way. They're in no condition to make such a trip." He grabbed Swindle by the shoulder, squeezing lightly. "We won't be gone long. I need you to look after them until we return. You have the resources to survive here. This new world may be our breakthrough to win this war, at least to gain the upper hand once more. We can't continue under Galvatron's current leadership."

Swindle felt the panic trying to overtake his processor. _He's really going through with this!_ "No. No, no, no Onslaught! You're not doing this again! You're not gonna get us all boxed up again!"

"Swindle. I swear that will never happen. Not a second time. You have to trust me."

Swindle stared him directly in the optic band. He didn't need to see Onslaught's optics to know that his brother wasn't going to change his mind. Rainburn was huddled against his side with Dualer, trying desperately to not shake with fear at the chaos surrounding them. Swindle tightened his grip around them instinctively. Onslaught's mind was made up, and in that moment, Swindle made up his. He tossed the two terrified sparklings safely into his cockpit as his transformed, and sped away in the direction of their hidden sanctuary.


End file.
